We won
by La Gitane
Summary: Set right at the end of Chosen Buffy's thoughts...


Disclaimer : nothing's mine, everything belongs to Joss Whedon and ME, yada yada.  
  
Setting: actually, it takes place at the very end of Chosen, Buffy's lost in thoughts, a little smile in her eyes and thousand wor(l)ds in her eyes.  
  
"Summary": Just what I imagined Buffy is thinking as the final battle is finally over.  
  
Author's note: Well, I came up with the idea of writing this after having been left totally frustrated at the end of Chosen, like I'm sure a lot of you have been, too. Of course, this was not a very long time ago for me as I'm living in France and season 7 hasn't even begun yet for all the people who don't have cable television (lucky me, I do have it!). But I still needed a whole month to find the time to write it. And so, I've finally done it and, there it is! As you must have noticed by now, English is not my first language, not even my second one. I've tried to be careful with the grammar and spelling mistakes, but if you find some of them, then be kind to let me know. Hope you'll enjoy it and leave me a lot of nice reviews. ;)  
  
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We won... we won... He won. I smile. He did it. Oh yes he did. I believe in you Spike. And you did it. You freed me. You saved the world. You saved the world. I'm not surprised. I'm not even impressed. I knew it. And I'm not sad. Not when I know you found yourself, even if that means I had to loose you in the process. But I haven't. Lost you. Not really. Never. It just can't be, you cannot not be there. Whatever things may look like, I simply don't care. I don't want to proceed it. Because if I do, then this huge hole in the ground behind me would be nothing, nothing compared to the emptiness I would feel. This is not about love. It's not even about friendship or care or trust or comfort. No, it's not about love. This, is about everything. This, is about you. You're... here. With me. That's what you do. Always near. ' Don't need to make sure of it, ' would be like verifying that there still is oxygen in the air. Silly. I'm still breathing, aren't I? So. Still there. ' Don't need to verify it but I do need it to be still standing though. You were right when you didn't believe me, that last minute. I don't love you. What you are to me is so much more; so close to it, and yet so different; love is not the right word to express it. It's only the closest to it I know in English. There's so much things one can love: family, friends, to feel the warmth of the sun on one's skin, to watch the stars at night, to take a long, hot bubble bath after a hard night of slaying...  
  
But what you are to me?... It's all of these put together and yet neither of them. It's like a promise, a husky whisper of safety and rest, a heated murmur of matching force and character... Of course it hasn't always felt like that. There's been a lot of ugliness and taking the wrong path, from the both of us. And that's the point. You said it yourself: You've seen the worst and the best of me, just like I know how you were capable of the worst and saw how incredibly hard you fought for the good you had in you... We've both been too far, endured and taken so much. Love is not a word for us, it implies too much innocence, an euphoria, a marvelled blindness we never had. Love's never been blind for us, on the contrary. There's no embellishment, no idealization, on either side. I know you and you know me and those few words, simple as they may seem, mean everything.  
  
So, having lost you? No, can't take that in right now. Can't allow myself to realize it now, when there's already so much grieving to do. I've already lost so much, this I realize and it makes me want to break down and sob until there's nothing left of me. Until there's nothing left of me but you... But I can't do that now, can I? I need to be strong, once more. Need to lead the broken troops one last time, out of this desert, away from what has been our lives, our home for some of us, just hell for the others, away from those streets, those familiar places and faces that just... aren't anymore, away from what has been my prison and my shelter at the same time, away from... No, can't break down right now. Not until we're definitively out of here... not until I have you to hold me and to make sure I won't disappear... But I can't help it. I'm thinking of my mom. It feels like I've lost her a second time. Only this time is worse, if that could ever be. This time, everything that was her, that was her's, is gone, blown like a wisp of straw. And as I desperately try to gather my memories, I feel her face slip away from me... And every attempt I make at retaining her just seem to help her fade further away... And I want to scream and I want to cry and I feel terrified because, if I can't remember her face, then what does that leave me left with? Dawn. I have Dawn. Together we'll keep her alive. And whenever one of us starts forgetting what she looked like, how she felt, all she was, the other will be there to help remember and that way she'll always be with us... Oh, mom...  
  
I've never had any pictures of you. I have nothing left of you. Then again, I have nothing left of you but me. I have nothing left of you and yet it doesn't seem to affect me right now. Maybe it's just because I'm waiting for you to appear out of nowhere as soon as the sun sets, as you once told me I did and as you always do... Because there's no way it will not happen. There's just no way. Of course the rational part of me knows that you're gone, that you won't annoy the hell out of me or look at me with that heart- wrenching tenderness anymore, never again. But go look for the rational part in me right now... Nope. Not there today, gone on vacation. Gone... like you are. And, I realize, taking a look at the Scoobies - or at least, at what is left of them - like Anya seems to be too... You did good Anyanka, I think I'll miss you... Don't worry, we'll take care of Xander for you, I promise... Strong, faithful Xander... You seem ok; you have that look in your eyes, but you're ok... for now. I know the feeling... realization that still haven't hit yet, that you can't let hit you... That's ok. Tomorrow we'll realize. Tomorrow he'll finally not be there. And I will go on, because that's what I do. I'll just push aside the dreadful and ripping feeling of infinite emptiness and I'll go on. After all, this is what I've always been good at, haven't I? Pushing my feelings aside...  
  
I know love is not a word for us, but, Spike, I do love you.  
  
Fin 


End file.
